


Small Injuries

by GraveMatters



Series: My DnD fam is thirsty [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Berries, Cherries/ Banzan, F/M, cherrie/banzan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraveMatters/pseuds/GraveMatters
Summary: Banzan doesn't show many emotions. Cherrie shows many emotions constantly.





	Small Injuries

**Author's Note:**

> Listen: my dnd group is totally cute and I love them all- also they bet me that I wouldn't make this so fuck you, fan fics of their characters.  
> Berries is a teifling sorcerer and Banzan is a dragonborn monk. The size difference is adorable. This is the only straight ship in our group.

“FUCK.” Banzan swore, the seething curse dropped out of seemingly nowhere from the silver monk. When the words reached her ears, Cherries twisted in her steps to look towards him, concern twisting onto her features. He dropped the culprit, a curved blade of an axe, to the floor and in a quick response, Cherries flinched. Though she quickly recovered, Banzan couldn’t help but see the repulse and his features softened. 

“Sorry.” He hums and sends a quick glare to his left as Oak quickly side-steps out of scene, guilt painting his eyes in a joking but semi-terrified glaze. Cherries smiled weakly, her nerves shot and muscles tense. They were on the way to Vac currently and the road had been rough on everyone of course, but was particularly cruel to Cherries.  
Each step like she was walking through deeper and thicker mud, the steps becoming even more and more difficult to place. Every step to her home felt like another step towards a grave. Not that she could explain any of this to anyone, lest they try to do something everyone else tried.  
Help. And where did that leave them?  
Dead. 

She shook her head, long black hairs sweeping in front of dark brown eyes. She huffed, but dug her hands into a small satchel on her hip and produced a small wrapping. Banzan eyed it with singular disdain, “I’m not a wimp, I can take a small cut.”  
“Just- shut up, alright?” Though it seemed like the words were meant to land a blow on his ego, or at least get him to quiet himself, but the statement felt winded of all possible malice or intent. 

She gestures her head to the left in indication for him to sit down. Banzan seemed hesitant, but let himself fall to the floor on a soft patch of grass left of the road they had been traveling. Cherries tore a strand of it off, pulling herself closer to him and holding out her hand without saying a command. Banzan seems to understand this exchange of non-verbal conversation and places his hand in hers. Without knowing it, a small smile flickers on the edge of Cherries mouth as she begins to wrap the bleeding palm. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, oddly mesmerized by the slow movements of the wrapping around the (now that she has a good look at it) callused hands of the monk. 

“I should really be asking you that.” He muses, an eyebrow shooting up in a cocky chance. 

“I’m not the one with a sliced open palm.” 

“And I’m not the one heading back to a pretty traumatic point in my life.” 

The both of them fall silent as Cherries turns the last wrap and ties it tightly, maybe tugging a little harder to get that small wince from usually a rough presenting dragonborn. 

“There. Quit getting yourself hurt, okay?”  
“No promises.” He grins, his smile hints no sense of understanding in how deep her words meant. He’s really trying, it seems.  
“Be serious Banzan.”  
“I’m always serious.”  
“Banzan.”  
“What?” 

She chews on her lip, sharp fangs glistening in the falling sunlight. What on earth could she say? What could convince this stubborn, wonderful, asshole, dragonborn monk to listen to her?  
“Please. Please don’t...” And her voice trails off, but their heirs held taut in Banzan’s throat, clogging any comfort he could bullshit.  
Her voice wavered without her knowing, eyes suddenly swimming and dancing with forgotten lovers and memories soaked red with the blood of those she loved. Her ears stained static with the buzz of doubt in the sounds of screams. The hot tears of regret burning streaks of ash down her cheeks. Something about this was familiar. Too familiar to love, too comforting to hate. 

And without her knowledge, Banzan leaned in and wrapped tentative hands around her. She’s tense, and for a moment he considers quickly pulling back and apologizing for the unannounced hug. But as soon as she registers the importance of this moment, she shakily nestles her quiet sobs into the crook of his scarred and scaled neck. She turned almost to putty, relaxing into his arms. Whatever could happen, whatever may happen, whoever ends up in the reclined grasp of Death, right in this moment; Cherries never felt more in love. Fuck the rules, maybe this moment could last forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen: my dnd group is totally cute and I love them all- also they bet me that I wouldn't make this so fuck you, fan fics of their characters.  
> Berries is a teifling sorcerer and Banzan is a dragonborn monk. The size difference is adorable. This is the only straight ship in our group.


End file.
